


Hearing Voices

by acephoenix86



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 19:32:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17189051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acephoenix86/pseuds/acephoenix86
Summary: Varric returns to Kirkwall for the first time after his exploits with the Inquisition. He sees the Statue of the Champion for the first time in forever and something strange starts to happen.





	Hearing Voices

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likeabirdinflight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeabirdinflight/gifts).



After being dragged away from Kirkwall by Cassandra and the fledgling Inquisition, Varric now returns as a free man – a much preferable condition. He had told the Seeker his story of the Champion of Kirkwall and his subsequent actions as her companion. Though, not everything of course. After the Temple of Sacred Ashes erupted into a fiery blast of pink flame that ripped open sky, he finally won the approval of the Inquisition. Moreover, he won the approval of the Inquisitor, who like him had started out as a prisoner. 

Varric paid the captain of the merchant vessel he had booked passage on before he stepping onto the docks of Kirkwall. He kept his head down and his cloak up as he passed through the different crews loading and unloading cargo on the various ships around them. Dwarves’ low stature afforded them more maneuverability in a crowd, but frankly he did not want to be randomly stopped after such a long voyage across the Waking Sea. All he wanted to do was get to his room at the Hanged Man. 

But he paused to look up at the statue of the Champion, with its glistening armor and sword of flame towering over the main the dock area. The helmet covered the face of the person who had saved Kirkwall from destruction one too many times. The armor had been sculpted in such a way that one could not even tell if it was a man or woman underneath, something Varric had made fun of it when he and Hawke had first seen it erected. Now the lack of the woman he knew so well in that statue felt like a kick to the git. 

A strong wind picked up just then, blowing against Varric hard enough that he almost had to take a step back. He turned away quickly to walk up the many steps from the docks to lowtown.

Varric finally put his feet up once he got to his tidy room. He had paid a pretty coin to keep the rent in his name and for Orana to clean it once a month while he was with the Inquisition. After such a long journey, he was only too pleased to be back in his own bed.

\------------------------------

 

The next day, Varric reminisced about his time in the Inquisition with an old fiery friend down in the barracks. He told her the stories he liked and avoided the ones he did not enjoy to remember, and complained frequently about the demons. His year with the Inquisition had not been all bad, but Blessed Andraste, that was too many demons. He would sell off his room at the Hanged Man if he could go the rest of his life without seeing another demon.

“But this is Kirkwall, Varric,” Aveline commented as she sat in her large chair behind her desk. “For years it felt like we were wading knee deep in demons.”

“Thanks to all that blood magic. You mustn’t forget about that,” he added from his seat across from her. After his initial return and settling into his old room at the Hanged Man, Varric decided to visit his old friends or at least those still left in Kirkwall.

“I stand corrected. Knee deep in blood magic and demons,” she said with a half-smile. Varric could tell that she was humoring him, but he decided to keep it going for a little longer.

“While some of us remained ass deep in that and the undead. I once won a bet on that one,” he said smugly.

He glanced at the shield and sword propped up to the side on its stand. The former was clearly new – a gift perhaps. Though Varric could only list off a few people who would offer up such a nice gift. His guess was that her own guard got together to pull something off like this. Especially since Aveline would never allow a noble to give her anything of the sort in the eventual hopes to curry favor later. 

He would know since he had tried it years ago. 

“I usually don’t have time for such things,” she said with the barest hint of complaint in her voice. _‘Of course not. That would be allowing time for fun,’_ he heard the sound of Hawke’s voice in his head. Varric shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was surprised to hear Hawke’s voice to say the least, but he couldn’t let Aveline know what he just heard. She would think he has gone crazy with mourning even after the months it’s been since they all last saw Hawke…

Varric focused back to the conversation.

The Captain of the Kirkwall Guard was indeed a busy woman with no Viscount and the Templars still in disarray. The guard provided the only sense of order for a city already in disarray.

“That’s right. Even on your time off, you usually enjoyed busting heads and taking names.”

“I’ll bust yours if you don’t get to the point,” Aveline said in that tone that he remembered well. The one often directed at him for nearly every annoyance she had with him. “What are you really doing here?” she asked directly. 

Her bluntness was one of the things he admired about her, even if it was quite annoying.

“I’m hurt, Aveline,” Varric responded, feigning offense. “That you would think I would only visit if I had an agenda.”

‘She has you pegged, though,’ he heard Hawke say again.

“You usually did whenever you used to visit on your own.” 

“People can change.”

“Not all.”

“Fine. You win, Aveline.” Varric said relentingly with his hands held up. He knew when his usual conversational tactics would get him nowhere. “I want to discuss the Hanged Man.”

“No, Varric.” 

“I have a different proposal,” he added quickly, remembering the last time he tried to talk to her about the rundown bar. 

_‘As opposed to your previous bad proposals.’_

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not helping in whatever scheme you have this time,” she said definitively as she stood back up. 

“Well don’t say I didn’t try to bring up a legitimate offer,” he responded, standing as well. Varric turned to leave her office.

“You better not be lying to me, Varric,” she said to his back, just as he got to the door. 

“Now Aveline, when was the last time I lied to you?” Varric asked, turning around to look at her. She had moved to lean on the side of her desk now, appearing a bit more comfortable or perhaps it was his imagination playing tricks on him. 

“Two nights ago.”

“Having a bad hand at cards and nothing to lose does not count. That’s how you play the game. Even Hawke’s Mabari knows that,” he explained, all the while trying not to remember too much of the many nights he taught that silly dog how to play cards or the nights where Hawke would complain about her friends spending more time with said dog than her. Now the scary yet talented Mabari had found a new home in the barracks.

_‘You still play cards with my dog?’_

“He doesn’t have time anymore to play cards,” Aveline tried to say seriously. Varric shrugged in response. “Varric…” She paused to sigh. “I want to help you… as an old friend... but I can’t. Not in this matter.” 

“That’s too bad. Looks like I will have to find another business partner,” he said before turning to leave. His plan this time really was to buy the Hanged Man instead of something along the lines of causing the bar owner to become discredited in some way to make the price go down. Then he could simply swing in to save the place at a reduced price. Perhaps he spent too much time with the honorable Inquisitor or he was letting sentimentality get the better of him in planning out this particular business venture.

Varric took the long walk from the Viscount’s Keep down through Hightown to the market of Lowtown, where he entered the Hanged Man, surprisingly without incident.

\---------------------------------------

A week later, Varric sifted through the numerous stacks of fan letters he had come back home to after a year away from Kirkwall. He had spent the last week sending out messengers and different spies under his wing to find a suitable business partner for future endeavors. No one would ever fill Hawke’s shoes, but he had to at least try. Right? Though no one really could fill those boots. Not in a million years. Perhaps if all else failed, he would send a letter to the Lady Trevelyan. She might indulge him in a bit of fun and intrigue after she leaves the Inquisition… if she ever left the Inquisition.

His room had been filled with so much fan mail by the time he returned to the Hanged Man, and Varric had cursed at the sheer number of letters. His editor insisted on him going through as many as possible. ‘Without your fans, you have nothing’ she had said to him when they last spoke. 

_‘Oh I don’t know about that. You’ll always have your enemies. Those who will never let you have a moment’s peace..like Aveline.’_ he could hear Hawke say in his head. He shook it quickly before he dwelled on her too much. A grown dwarf imagining the voice of his best friend now lost in the Fade...most likely dead...it was just what he needed to earn a bed next to his brother, Bartrand, at the institute. Now was not the time for him to go crazy. 

He went back to sifting through various colored and perfumed envelopes when his youngest agent walked through the doorway with another large sack to dump on him.

“Another hau, Serah,” said the young elf. 

“Set it next to the others, Nug,” he said with a half smile on his face. He would one day come up with a better code name for this particular agent, but for now, Nug fit, especially considering this young elf’s ears always had a pink tinge to them. He once tried to ask her about it, but she only turned a deeper shade of pink, so he let it go for now.

“Right away,” she said as she dragged the bag over to the corner of the room next to the infinite piles that Varric had not opened yet. He might get to them eventually….or perhaps never. The fan mail seemed never ending.

“That’ll do, Nug. Have a good night,” he said before he turned back to the closest stack of envelopes near him. Their pungent odor and wild colors were distracting…

_‘Varric...pay attention...’_

So distracting that Varric did not notice the man standing outside the door to his room until he heard Nug scream. 

Varric shot up, grabbed Bianca and followed the dark man in the process of kidnapping one of his agents out of the Hanged Man. At this time of night, everyone was too drunk to stop any of them. Unfortunately with his shorter legs moving as fast as he could make them, the kidnapper was getting away. Varric pushed open the door quickly to stumble out into the night, only to run into what felt like a brick wall.

But there was never a brick wall this close to the Hanged Man door.

“Woah there. Told you he would be out any minute,” he heard the brick wall say. The voice sounded like Iron Bull. When Varric steadied himself and looked up, he saw the very Qunari looking down at him. 

“I would ask what you are doing here, but I don’t have time,” Varric said as he walked around his friend. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen a --”

“They went that way,” chimed Dorian who stepped up from the side. “If we hurry, we might catch them.” Varric immediately turned in the direction that led to Hightown with Dorian and Iron Bull following close behind.

“What in the Void are the two of you doing in Kirkwall?” he asked his Inquisition friends. 

“Would you believe we were just passing through?” Dorian replied.

“No, no I don’t. It’s too coincidental for my tastes,” Varric responded as he returned Bianca to her place on his back. He then looked around at who they had been fighting.

“Ever the suspicious dwarf. Spinning tales of wonder no doubt,” Dorian commented. “Our dear Nightingale heard some worrying news and sent us to check it out since we were in the area.”

“That was nice of her,” Varric responded numbly. 

They reached the top of the stairs to the market of Hightown. He could see the kidnapper pull Nug towards the large mansions of wealthiest district. Varric took two steps toward them when –

_‘Varric, look out!’_

he swore he heard Hawke yell in his ear just before he dodged an errant arrow. There he goes, hearing things again. He pulled out Bianca to join the fight with a volley of arrows. Iron Bull rushed in with his battle axe raised high while Dorian whizzed spells left and right. 

The fight was over quickly enough, but at the same time not quite quick enough for Varric’s liking, not with his agent’s life on the line. Or perhaps he was just getting too old for this shit. He holstered Bianca back into place before running over to check out the archway where the kidnapper had disappeared. There had to be some sort of clue as to where they’d gone. He searched high and low while Bull and Dorian checked the bodies of their attackers for items, coin, etc. 

“I wouldn’t worry about these lads too much. Some cut throats here to steal a purse or two,” Dorian said behind him. 

Bull knelt down next to one and pulled off a patch from the jacket shoulder to reveal a symbol of Evets Marauders. “Looks can be deceiving,” he said. 

Varric frowned when he recognized the symbol.

“Shit… I thought those bastards were long dead,” he groused. “What did you two do to bring about their attention?”

“It wasn’t us,” Dorian assures him.

“You’re joking, right? haven’t been back two weeks and already someone wants me dead…” Varric grumbled.

_‘No rest for the wicked it seems,’_ came Hawke’s voice in his ear again. _‘Just like old times, really.’_

Varric forced himself not to shiver. Was she haunting him or something? No. That couldn’t be. The last time he saw her was at Adamant when they fell into the Fade…

Varric found it. Nug had left a clue for him to follow: a button from her coat. He looked further down the path to see another. “Clever girl,” he said to himself. She left him a trail to follow. “Come on,” he told his comrades.

They followed the trail to a nearby abandoned mansion. Varric could smell the makings of a trap a mile away. Why did he always let himself get roped into these things?

_‘Admit it. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else…’_ he could nearly hear Hawke say. Varric shook his head to clear it again.

“Varric, do you recognize this place?” Bull asked.

“No. Not the slightest. But we need to get in there,” he responded. 

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Bull responded as he leaned to one side, squared his shoulder and charged the door, breaking it off its hinges in one swoop. Varric and Dorian followed. They were immediately waylaid by more mercenaries...and demons.

“Demons. Why’d it have to be demons,” Varric complained. 

_‘This is Kirkwall. Of course it’s demons. Demons and blood magic for everyone.’_

The three of them fought off the combination of mercenaries and demons from room to room of the abandoned home, each group getting tougher than the last until they finally reached the main hall, where they found not only the kidnapper and Nug standing at the top of the stairs with the elf still firmly in the kidnapper’s hold, but also the employer who pulled them all into this mess…

Worthy.

“Worthy! What the hell do you think you are doing?! What is all this about?!” Varric yelled across the room. This was the second time in a year that he had to deal with this rat of a dwarf. 

“I’m getting my vengeance! Twice now you have ruined me! First with Hawke and that damned enchanter of Bodahn’s and then with sending me to that void taken prison. You should have stayed away from Kirkwall! When you returned, I had no choice but to return the favor.”

_‘Because clearly staying in hiding was not a reasonable option.’_

With that, Worthy snapped his fingers and a band of mercenaries dropped down from the shadows of the hall. These guys acted more like ninjas than common mercenaries. Varric, Iron Bull, and Dorian leaped into action like many of the times they did before with Inquisitor Trevelyan. 

_‘Go down!’_ he could hear Hawke cry out as the battle raged.

“I got another one! How many have you got Hawke?” he responded back naturally. When he did not hear a response, he realized his mistake. Luckily the sounds of fighting had drowned out his voice so neither Iron Bull or Dorian heard him. When the battle finished, Varric added, “Messing with us is suicidal.” He turned his bow toward Worthy who had been separated from all of his bodyguards thanks to one of those spells Dorian could cast that caused fear to run rampant among their enemies. 

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t shoot you right now,” he said to Worthy. 

“Because you’ll never find the one who helped him escape,” responded Nug who stepped out from behind one of the doors where she had hid the first chance she got. Varric sighed and lowered Bianca. “You have a point.”

“Might I suggest then that we bring him in so the guard captain can interrogate him,” Dorian added. Varric nodded and stepped aside so the Iron Bull could shackle and carry the miserable dwarf to the barracks. He had a lot of explaining to do.

\---------------------------------

After saying goodbye to his friends, Varric donned a cloak and walked out into the night. He quietly walked down from the Hanged Man to the docks. Over the past week he had felt dogged by a presence he could not explain. 

“How could you do it?” he asked the Statue of the Champion. He stood only far enough away to not have to crane his neck too much to look at the face of the statue that was obscured by a helmet. With the amount of armor they shaped into the stone statue, no one could ever tale that there was supposed to be this amazingly frustrating woman underneath. The one woman whom Varric had let get away.

“You just had to go off to be the hero. Right, Hawke? You had to stay in the Fade to fight the demons. You had to take responsibility for something that was not your fault. You had to leave me behind…” He hung his head briefly and swallowed hard. “I don’t know how to do this without you. Everywhere I go, there you are. I keep hearing you no matter what...I feel like I’m going insane.”

Varric fell silent for a while.

The gentle pressure of a familiar hand rested on his shoulder, but when Varric turned to see who disturbed this private moment, no one was there. 

_‘You’re only as crazy as you want to be, Varric...but I am here to look out for you…’_

This wasn’t a mere voice in his head or some chance occurrence; this was Hawke reaching out and comforting him in her own way. Varric did not fight it this time. Whether or not he was actually crazy didn’t matter anymore, at least as far as he was concerned. 

He would never tell anyone what he experienced that evening. He simply whispered three little words to himself, to the spirit, to the memory of the Champion of Kirkwall. Then he departed.

The next morning a bouquet of simple flowers lay at the feet of the statue, and once a week after that, the citizens of Kirkwall would find a new bouquet of flowers replace the last. No one questioned or argued about it; the flowers simply became a part of the statue itself, like the eternal flame atop the sword hilt that blazed both day and night.


End file.
